I'm Here
by AJuneRose
Summary: Set after The Sound of Silence, Meredith experiences a ptsd flashback/panic attack when she enters the trauma room where Lou attacked her for the first time after returning to work. Only Alex can help her through it. Some Meredith/Jackson friendship, which I love and feel doesn't get enough screen time! Lots of Mer\Alex friendship and some slow burn Merlex.
1. Chapter 1

It's the beginning of Meredith Grey's 3rd week back at Grey Sloane Memorial since recovering from the trauma caused by her postictal patient and it's started off well. ZoZo, thrilled to see her friends again, stayed at preschool without hanging onto her mother's legs and both Bailey and Ellis stayed in childcare without tears or screaming. Meredith sipped her coffee and checked the surgical board. Barring any incoming traumas, she had just a routine appy this morning and a whipple scheduled for after lunch. She shook her head, a slight smile playing around her lips. Miranda was easing her back in, despite her protests that Callie had cleared her to stand on her healed leg for as long as she needed, and that she had truly missed surgery. She grabbed her charts from the nurses' station, smiling warmly in response to the "good to have you back, Dr. Grey" murmured by the woman who handed them to her. She flipped through her patients' information as she prepared to start her morning rounds, nearly colliding with Jackson, who was rushing around the corner fumbling with his phone. "Meredith!" He exclaimed, when she let out a surprised noise and he finally glanced up. He reached out a hand to steady both her and himself. "I was just about to page you. I need a consult on my patient when you can. Trauma two." Meredith felt her stomach clench and a wave of panic, black and thick, slowly begin to swell inside her chest. Jackson gave her a quick smile, oblivious to her rising discomfort, and continued down the hall. Toward the pit, she assumed. Toward his patient in trauma two. Her stomach rolled again and suddenly the smell of her coffee seemed nauseating rather than inviting. She dropped it in a bag of trash left on an unattended housekeeping cart as she continued down the hall to round on her pre op patients. She struggled to keep her face neutral as she fought the wave of fear that threatened to drown her, but despite her best efforts she could feel her hands shaking and her breath quickening. She hadn't been inside trauma room two since she'd been back to work. She hadn't been inside trauma room two since she'd left it 6 months ago: carried out strapped to a backboard, barely conscious but completely terrified. She forced herself to take slow, deep breaths. There was no need for this kind of reaction. Everything had turned out fine, she rationalized with herself. She had seen Lou, shaken his hand, accepted his apology. He'd been discharged. She was back at work and, she had thought until now, none the worse for wear. She was tempted to put the consult off, keep too busy until Miranda or Richard were free and could take over for her. But- she frowned. If they knew she had been avoiding the trauma room, if they suspected the truth- that even after 6 months of recovery and three weeks back at work she was still struggling to stay afloat on this wave of irrational fear- they could bench her again, like they had after the shooting several years before. They could force her to see the hospital shrink, who would try to make her bright and shiny all over again. Determined now, she shook her head and turned around, following the path Jackson had taken to the pit. Better to get it over with, she thought. I'll make it quick.

The patient- Marjorie, she learned from the chart Jackson's intern handed her as she walked in- was a small middle aged woman with penetrating trauma to her upper right thigh. Rebar, from a motorcycle crash. It had barely missed the femoral artery. She was lucky to be alive. Jackson only wanted Meredith's input on the best method for removing the metal without further injuring healthy surrounding tissue. Everything about this case was different than the one she'd worked on the last time she had been in this room. A small woman instead of a big man, penetrating trauma to the leg instead of blunt force trauma to the head. The patient was sedated and clearly harmless rather than seizing violently. There were no similarities between Marjorie's case and Lou's. Rationally, Meredith knew this. And yet, every time she looked at Marjorie it was Lou's face she saw. When she turned to grab supplies off of the tray, she could hear the instruments on it clattering to the floor amid her own strangled screams. Hands shaking and heart racing, she fought to focus on this patient, tried to remember what her recommendation was for Jackson. But the room swam through her blurry vision and there was a rushing in her ears that kept growing louder and louder. "... Meredith? Did you hear me? Meredith? Mer! Are you alright?" Jackson's voice sounded far away and muffled, garbled like she was underwater. The same way everything had sounded up until just a few weeks ago when her hearing had slowly begun to return. And just like that, she felt the tenuous control she had been struggling to keep over her mind snap. She was hyperventilating now, but the tightness she felt around her throat was no longer caused by her body's adrenaline response, it was Lou's big hands wrapped in a stranglehold around her neck. The hands that reached out toward her and firmly gripped her upper arms in an attempt to support her and call her back were no longer Jackson's gentle surgeon hands offering the reassuring touch of a friend; they were Lou's hands grabbing her and lifting her roughly over his head to slam her against a wall. She was thrashing and choking and terrified and black spots danced before her vision. She was going to pass out. She vaguely heard the door open and slam shut, and two male voices yelling. But she was too lost in her fear to recognize Jackson yelling in panic for someone to page Alex, too far gone to realize that what felt like hours of desperate struggle alone was really only minutes. Her knees buckled and she heard another swell of gruff voices as the arms that had been only supporting her now took her full weight, tensed to keep her from falling, and lowered her softly to the floor.

Suddenly there were warm hands on her face, in her hair. And even in the midst of her terror she recognized their touch. Alex.

The floor was cold against her cheek and she grabbed hold of the reality of that small detail. She fought to focus on Alex's words, but she could hardly hear him over the ringing in her ears so she focused on his presence instead. "This isn't real, it's not real. It's not real." She wasn't sure if the words she was saying were really leaving her lips or were just in her head, but she knew they were true. This wasn't real. It couldn't be real, because when Lou had attacked her she was all alone, and she was not alone now. She was lying on the cold floor of trauma room two again, afraid and unable to breathe again, but this time Alex was here. She was sure of it; she could smell his aftershave and feel the callouses on his palms as they brushed tears she hasn't realized she was crying from her face and smoothed back her sweaty hair. His words continued to wash over her like a very different kind of wave, and the dark one within her chest began to recede.

"You're safe, Mer. I got you. It's not real, whatever you're seeing is not real. I'm here, I'm right here."

Gradually the crushing weight of Lou's hands around her neck lifted and she could breathe again. Slowly, the rushing in her ears faded and she could more clearly hear the soft murmur of Alex's voice. As she came back to herself a bit more, she registered the various hospital noises outside the door of the room, which she was grateful to notice had emptied except for the two of them. The last thing she needed was the hospital gossiping about Dr. Grey's panic attack in front of a patient and the whole ER. She felt one of Alex's hands move from her hair to her wrist as he tried to surreptitiously check her pulse.

"That's right, Mer, that's good. You're ok. Take as long as you need." She flipped her hand over to thread her fingers through his, squeezing as she began to muster the courage to push past her lingering emotion and embarrassment at his seeing her like this and meet his eyes. It took a moment, and she let him slip a hand gently behind her neck to help her sit up first. She winced as she felt her pulse pounding in her temples, but she managed to meet his concerned gaze for a beat before quickly glancing away.

"I'm fine." She murmured softly, staring at their intertwined fingers, confused by the tear tracks she had noticed on his usually stoic face. His thumb rubbed comforting circles on the back of her hand and she realized he still hadn't untangled his fingers from her sweaty hair. "I know" he answered. The smile he gave her was both genuine and sad. She inhaled a shuddering breath and let it out slowly. "I'm fine." She repeated, more audibly this time.

"I know" Alex said again, and there was a steady confidence in his tone now that infused her with a little confidence as well. At least enough to get up off of the freezing floor. "Help me up." She directed, working to school her face into what she hoped was a collected expression. He obliged, but once they were on their feet, he stood there just a moment too long, still holding her hand, seemingly reluctant to let her go. "Mer..." He began, then trailed off. She read the strange mixture of concern and admiration in his eyes, and guessed the things he wanted to say to her, but couldn't bring himself to speak aloud again now that he knew she was listening.

. ... _I'm right here. I got you. I'm right here_...

He didn't need to say anything else. She smiled up at him in response and it was a bit shaky, but real. "I know." She softly echoed his words from just a second ago back to him. "And thank you." He gave her hand one last squeeze, then checked his pager and opened the door. As soon as he turned the handle, she heard his name called by three different interns simultaneously and her stomach clenched. She hadn't thought about everything he must have just dropped to run to her, or the pages he must have ignored to stay with her. How long had they been in there anyway? 40 minutes? An hour? The door clicked closed behind him, shutting out the noises of the hospital again as she watched him take off at a jog toward the ambulance bay. Her own pager vibrated at her hip and she checked it by reflex. Incoming trauma. She moved to follow Alex, pausing at the door to quickly swipe a hand across the tears drying on her cheeks and smooth down her disheveled hair. Before she let the door shut behind herself, she glanced back at the room that held no fear for her any longer. And she wondered at exactly what moment Alex had become her person... And why she felt so warm inside... And why the hand that he'd been holding wouldn't stop tingling.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Beep beep beep beep

Meredith gave a deep groan of protest and rolled over to hit snooze before her alarm could blare for a fifth time. Rubbing the sleep from her bloodshot eyes, she carefully shifted to check on baby Ellis, who had miraculously slept through both the noise of the alarm and her mother's movement jostling the mattress. It had been a rough night, and Meredith wasn't sure how much real sleep either one of them had gotten. Ellis was in the throes of teething, and Meredith had been jolted awake by nightmare after nightmare. She had them frequently, the nightmares; but they usually they weren't quite this bad. Last night it was as if her mind had dredged up every traumatic experience she'd ever had and replayed them all one by one behind her eyelids. Her breathing began to quicken, and she felt her heart rate spike again even at just the memory. Meredith took a deep breath in through her nose and shakily exhaled, trying to calm herself down. She forced thoughts of the night before out her mind and propped her pounding head up on one hand, taking a moment to just admire her little girl; the soft curve of her chubby cheeks, the little rolls on her wrists and each perfect finger, her long eyelashes and beautiful baby curls. She couldn't help the small smile that played around the corners of her mouth as she drank in this sweet moment of stillness. She knew that once those blue eyes opened, their owner would be far from still and calm. Ellis was a force of life and energy and she kept her mama and her aunts running all day long. She was almost 10 months old now, and every day Meredith saw more of Derek in her. Her expressive eyes were his, and she had his charming, outgoing personality. And lately, the little curls that had been so blond at birth, now seemed to be darkening into the famous, glossy, Shepherd shade of brunette. "You would be so proud." Meredith murmured, eyes lifting from her sleeping daughter's face to the smiling picture of her husband that she kept on the nightstand next to the alarm clock- which was now reading 5:15. Meredith sighed heavily. She'd spent more time in reflection than she'd intended. The alarm would go off again at any moment and she didn't want to chance waking Ellis this time. She swung her legs off the bed and stood up gingerly. Ellis didn't stir, and a quick glance out into the hallway assured her that both Zola and Bailey were still asleep as well. She breathed a little sigh of relief as she pressed the button to turn off the alarm clock. She needed some time this morning.

In the bathroom across the hall so that any noise she made wouldn't travel as loudly, Meredith changed into some jeans and a blouse, brushed her teeth and began to apply her usual mascara and Chapstick. But once she looked in the mirror she decided to add some concealer as well. The dark circles around her red eyes looked like bruises, and even through two layers of makeup were still faintly visible. Accepting with a weary shrug that this was as good as it was going to get, she turned away from the mirror and headed downstairs to start some coffee. While the coffee brewed, she fixed breakfast for the kids and packed Zola and Bailey's lunches and the baby's bottles.

Her cell phone vibrated in her back pocket and she pulled it out to see Alex's smiling face fill the screen. 'Alex Karev is asking to facetime'. Meredith hesitated for a second before hitting decline, ignoring the stab of guilt she felt at evading her friend's call. She was still embarrassed about what had happened yesterday and so confused about the tingling warmth that Alex's hands had left wherever he'd touched her. The night before, once the children had fallen asleep, she had put what was left of her mental energy and the better portion of a bottle of cheap wine toward trying to rationalize her emotions. But today, with Derek's memory fresh in her mind, she felt strange and guilty to be dwelling on another man's touch. A touch that had never affected her before… and yet now inexplicably tied her stomach into knots and left her warm and tingly all over again whenever she thought of it. She knew it was common for people to feel hyper emotional as their adrenaline slowly wore off, so she decided to chalk it up to just her body's automatic chemical response. But a whisper of uncertainty remained, and she felt too unsettled to face Alex just then. A moment later, Maggie's cheerful "good morning" and gentle squeeze of her shoulder interrupted Meredith's pensive thoughts, and she glanced up to offer a forced smile and a soft greeting in return.

"Good morning. I didn't hear you last night, what time did you come in?"

Maggie answered over her shoulder, her back toward Meredith, as she searched through the cupboard for a clean mug. "Wasn't it Amelia's turn to do the dishes?! Ah, found one. I didn't come home. I had an emergent CABG come in just as my shift was ending so I just crashed in an on-call room once I was finished. Are you on today?"

"Mm… yes." Meredith's conflicted reply caused Maggie to quirk one eyebrow and pause in pouring her coffee. "What's with the tone?" She asked, giving her sister her full attention. "Did something happen?"

Meredith kept her eyes fixes on the banana she was slicing for Zola's cereal and tried to ask casually. "Why? Did you hear about something happening?"

At Meredith's question, Maggie's brow furrowed in confusion and she left her mug and the pot of coffee on the counter, momentarily forgotten, as she closed some of the distance between herself and Meredith.

"No… should I have?"

Meredith continued slicing in silence, taking some of her frustration and uncertainty out on the poor banana. "No." she finally managed. "I just went into trauma two for the first time since... I've been back. It was a consult for Jackson."

She didn't mention the panic that had overtaken her when her body had reacted to the traumatic memory of her attack or the nightmares that had kept her up, forcing her to relive it all night. Although she'd come a long way from the emotionally numb, dark and twisty intern she'd used to be, Meredith was still a reserved person and it was still uncomfortable for her to be transparent with her emotions. Even with the people who had become her family

Meredith noticed Maggie's concerned gaze take in her bloodshot eyes and the poorly concealed dark circles beneath them- but she kept silent as Meredith completed the older kids' lunches with juice boxes and little 'I love you' notes, then swiped her damp hands across the seat of her jeans. "You really didn't hear anything at work?" Meredith asked her sister again. "Jackson didn't say anything to you?"

"No, not a word." Maggie had remembered her coffee, and she stared penetratingly at Meredith over the rim of her steaming mug as she took a sip. "All I know is what you've just told me; which, by the way is next to nothing. It must have been emotional going back in there again for the first time. Do you want to talk about it, maybe get some things off your chest?"

"No, it was fine. I'm fine." Meredith replied quickly. The last thing she wanted was for word of what had happened yesterday to get around. She was pretty sure that Miranda would consider a surgeon having a nervous breakdown on the floor of a trauma room a lot worse than a surgeon avoiding a trauma room. She would definitely wind up back in therapy and banned from the OR, and she had only just made it back. Besides, she was fine. Meredith Grey was always fine.

When Maggie regarded her skeptically, she insisted, "Really! I just wanted to make sure no one was making a big deal out of it or anything, that's all." Maggie still looked unconvinced, and Meredith thought she was about to say something else but the sound of Ellis crying from upstairs saved her.

"Mommy's coming, Ellie!" She called, taking the stairs two at a time, grateful for the timely interruption. By the time she had nursed and changed Ellis for daycare, Maggie had Zola and Bailey dressed and ready and the daily chaos of their morning circus had begun. In the rush of doling out breakfast and hugs and kisses and chauffeuring Bailey to preschool and Zola to kindergarten and Ellis to daycare, there was no more time to spend obsessing over the day before until she had arrived at the hospital. And even then, the chaos only continued. Meredith was paged to the OR to assist on Bailey's ruptured spleen before she even had a chance to change into her scrubs, and by the time she had scrubbed out of surgery, half of the dreaded day had already flown by.

By 3:30, she had finished with lunch and some charting and was beginning to think about heading back upstairs to prepare for her last scheduled surgery of the day. As Meredith gathered her trash, stood up, and slowly arched her back in a refreshing stretch, she glanced around the cafeteria at all the doctors and nurses engrossed in their own meals and conversations and realized in relief that no one had stared at her all day. She hadn't noticed anyone abruptly stop talking when she entered a room and Bailey hadn't been suspiciously nice to her during their surgery. She knew that at least one of Jackson's interns had been in the trauma room with them yesterday and would have seen her begin to panic. As interns, she and Alex and George and Izzie and Cristina had loved to pass the long hours of their shifts by gossiping about their residents and attendings. Surely this year's class was no better, and an occurrence like what had taken place yesterday would have been pure gold. Meredith felt a warm surge of gratitude flood her chest as she concluded that either Alex or Jackson must be making sure nobody was talking. Her friends' loyalty helped to lift a bit of the heavy emotion still weighing her down, and she ventured a smile at the cafeteria worker who accepted her empty tray before walking through big double doors and down the hallway to the elevator. As she was waiting for the elevator to arrive, she heard a familiar voice call her name.

"Mer!" Jackson had seen her from the nurses' station at the end of the hall, where he seemed to be jotting down a quick note in a patient's chart. When she turned and met his eyes he waved for her to wait and started walking toward her. Meredith felt a faint twinge of panic in her stomach. There wasn't a decline button to hit this time that could make her friend's face disappear, but she was still not ready to address the painful events of the day before. Meredith turned back to the elevator without acknowledging that she had seen Jackson and pressed the button repeatedly.

"Hey, Meredith!"

She heard Jackson call her name again, but she still didn't turn around. Instead she stepped through the elevator doors as they finally slid open in front of her and selected level 3, longing for the safety of her OR, where all she would have to talk about would be organs and surgical instruments.

"Are you kidding me right now? Mer!"

Jackson's voice echoed down the hall, and several passing nurses turned to look at the sudden commotion. Meredith desperately continued to feign not hearing, but before the doors could fully shut, she heard a dull thud and two tanned hands appeared in the gap, forcing the doors back open. Jackson's face was red from exertion, and if she was correctly interpreting the steely look in his expressive blue eyes and the way the muscles in his jaw were working, her friend was pretty pissed at her for ignoring him. Meredith set her shoulders in defiance as he muscled his way into the elevator car and the doors whooshed softly shut behind him. They stood there in silence for a moment, Jackson catching his breath and Meredith steeling herself for the uncomfortable conversation she knew was coming. She wasn't sure what she had been thinking anyway; she knew she couldn't avoid Alex and Jackson forever. She knew it was irrational to expect them to act like nothing had happened. They cared about her, and she reluctantly admitted to herself that if the roles were reversed, she'd want answers too. The feeling of Alex's gentle touch suddenly slipped back into her mind, and her stomach flip flopped, and her cheeks flushed warm at the memory. This was why she'd wanted to be left alone she thought, flustered. She didn't have any answers to offer, not to Jackson and not to herself. As the elevator started to rise, she saw Jackson's arm shoot out to pull the emergency stop.

"Meredith?" He questioned, voice full of confusion and yes, she had been right, frustration. "What the hell was that?"

"Nothing", she responded stubbornly, suddenly defensive. "I just had an urgent page and no time to talk."

Jackson's piercing eyes roamed her face and when she saw them soften, she knew he'd caught her in her lie. "Mer. This isn't an interrogation, all right? I'm not the head of the board right now. This is just a friend, worried about another friend who almost passed out in his arms yesterday." The gentleness in his voice supported his words and lowered her defenses a little. He really didn't sound accusing or judgmental, she thought; just concerned. With surprise, instead of pushing him away Meredith found herself letting some of the worries she'd been keeping bottled up spill over.

"It was just the first time I'd been in trauma two since...the attack. I'd been avoiding it until yesterday, but I was worried that if Bailey found out, she'd revoke my privileges and bring in a shrink again, and I have to be able to work, Jackson. It's the only thing keeping me… I can't just sit alone with my thoughts anymore. Besides, I'm fine. I went straight back to work afterward. You can ask Alex…" Her rambling trailed off as she watched Jackson's Adams apple bob with emotion. He took a moment to absorb her outburst before responding, and she waited anxiously, suddenly unable to look at him.

"Ok." He said softly. She could tell from the tone of his voice that he was unconvinced, and he spoke slowly, carefully. "Ok. Just... Have you talked to anyone yet, Mer? It doesn't have to be me, it could be Alex, or Maggie or Amelia... Or if you're uncomfortable talking to someone you know, it could be a professional..." Her eyes found his face again and saw that the gaze that met hers was determined and unwavering. Jackson didn't look away, not even when her eyes flashed in anger at his thinly veiled suggestion of counseling. He noticed her inhale sharply and open her mouth to reply, and quickly cut her off.

"No, Mer, listen! Just- hear me out, ok? Your reaction yesterday reminded me of something that happened a while ago, with April. Right after she came back from Jordan there were a few nights when a car would backfire outside or something and it would be like she was back there being shot at again." Meredith remembered how real the weight of Lou's hands around her neck had been yesterday, and how for several terrifying moments she had lost herself in the certainty that he was really there, strangling her all over again. She couldn't help the shudder that ran through her frame, but she pulled her mind back to the present to focus on Jackson's words. "…Anyway, there wasn't much I could do to help her then, you know, because of... the way things were between us. But we're talking more now, and there was this term that she used recently: PTSD. It stands for-" She had been interested in what Jackson was saying up until she heard him say 'PTSD', then she cut in with a scoff of dismissal.

"I know what Post Traumatic Stress Disorder is, Jackson, ok? And I know how it can screw people up- I've seen the hand prints on my best friend's neck. But that's not me; I'm not a freaking soldier! And I thought you said this wasn't going to be an interrogation!" Agitation made her breaths come too quickly, and she felt Jackson place a tentative hand on her shoulder as she panted.

"Ok." The way he said the word made it sound like an apology and he waited until Meredith's breathing had calmed before continuing. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you, Mer, honestly. It's just- you know that there are many things that qualify as traumatic stressors, not just combat zones. And I can think of quite a few of your life experiences that would definitely make the short list." Feeling Meredith's shoulder tense under his hand, he added reluctantly, "Listen, I'll drop the subject. For now. But I want to be here for you, ok? You can always come to me, if you need to. Anytime." Meredith was still irritated, but she nodded her head slightly in grudging acknowledgement of Jackson's offered support. She felt his eyes study her intently for another second, then he reached out to push the emergency stop button once more and the elevator groaned as it resumed its ascent to the third floor. Once it stopped and the doors opened, Jackson stepped off first. He was halfway down the hall before Meredith called softly after him. "Jackson. For yesterday... Thank you."

Jackson looked back over his shoulder and offered her a small smile. "Anytime," he repeated, echoing his promise from a moment before. "Anytime you need me, Mer."

20 minutes later, in the scrub room preparing for surgery, Meredith was still trying without success to banish Jackson's ridiculous suggestion of PTSD from her mind. But no matter how she tried, she couldn't quite escape the uncomfortable possibility that just maybe, he had only upset her as much as he had because somewhere deep inside, she was worried that he might be right.


	3. Chapter 3

When Meredith got home from the hospital that night, it was already dark. Her bowel resection had hit complications, and since she was still avoiding Alex and the other two rungs of her support ladder were both working that night, she'd had to call up to the hospital's daycare and authorize April to pick up her kids. Then, after she'd finished with surgery and settled her patient in post op, she'd had to rush 30 minutes out of her way to Jackson and April's where she'd very gratefully picked up her hungry, sleepy, understandably grouchy children. She was hungry too, and since Maggie and Amelia weren't off to cook anything edible that night they'd driven through Panera bread and inevitable mess be damned, she let the kids eat in the car on the way home. Bath time was loud and splashy and chaotic and by the time all three of her babies had been wrestled into pajamas and Zola and Bailey emerged from brushing their teeth- both a little damp and sticky and minty- she blessed April and thanked the universe that Zola had already been helped with her homework. She didn't think she could juggle one more thing that night and trying to figure out a common core math equation that defied her multiple degrees would have been the last straw.

She smiled softly as she watched her children affectionately hug and kiss each other goodnight- it was so nice when they got along!-before she tucked Zola and Bailey into their beds, brought each of them several drinks of water and read two bedtime stories. Then she shut off the lights in their bedrooms and called a tired "Goodnight" and "I love you" through their partially opened doors before hefting Ellis higher up on her hip and continuing down the hall to her own bedroom. Meredith collapsed into an armchair by her bed to nurse Ellis, fighting her own exhaustion as her overtired little girl's eyes fluttered closed. She pressed a soft kiss into one chubby cheek, careful not to wake the baby as she deftly transferred her from her tired arms to the crib. Switching the monitor on before she left, Meredith tip toed out of her room, silently shutting the door behind her. For a moment she just stood there in the hall way, leaning back against the closed door, soaking in the rare silence that blanketed the house now with all three children asleep. Meredith sighed heavily into the quiet, trying to banish both the heavy thoughts that had followed her relentlessly since her earlier conversation with Jackson and the guilty, confusing feelings that surrounded any remembrance of Alex.

Pushing herself off of the door, she fumbled down the stairs in the dark to the laundry room and rummaged through the basket of clean, sweet smelling, folded laundry that Maggie must have done before she went in for her shift. Pulling out by feel a pair of threadbare grey sweatpants with JUICY scrawled across the seat in sparkly print- a relic from her teenage years- and a soft pink sweatshirt, she changed right there in the laundry room, her shoulders slumping in immediate relaxation as she removed her bra and shrugged into the comfortable clothes. Tossing her previous outfit into the washer, she meandered into the kitchen and finally flipped on a light. As soon as she stopped moving she swayed a little on her feet and had to reach out for the kitchen island to steady herself. She was exhausted, she knew. Her emotional eruption the day before coupled with a mostly sleepless night and complicated surgery that day had wrecked her, and her body begged for sleep. But still, she eyed the Keurig. She'd been successfully pushing the horrific images that had filled her dreams out of her mind during the business of the day, but now that it was dark and quiet, and she was left alone with her thoughts, they all came rushing back and she was in no hurry for a reappearance of all her worst fears in her dreams again tonight. Huffing in frustration, Meredith pulled herself through the kitchen to the machine and switched it on, staring blankly as the water began to heat up. The sound of rattling as someone fumbled with the knob of her front door sounded loud in the silence and startled her. Jumping, she whirled around to face the entryway, tiredness momentarily forgotten as surprise and a small twinge of fear filled her with nervous energy.

"Amelia?" She called softly, not wanting to wake her sleeping children. "Is that you? Did you get off early?"

The only response she received was the creak of the front door swinging open and a masculine grunt of effort. Tense now, and already unsettled, she grabbed the closest weapon-like object she could find- Maggie's cast iron skillet- and crept around the corner, knuckles white with the fierceness of her grip on the pan's handle, and bumped into a muscular chest. At the unexpected contact, her heart leapt into her throat and her stomach dropped as if she had been freefalling on a rollercoaster at Six Flags, but the woodsy scent of familiar cologne enveloped her and she realized with a sob of relief the identity of her late-night intruder.

"Alex!" She shrieked, dropping the heavy skillet which clattered loudly against the hardwood floor, probably denting it and narrowly missing her own bare toes. "Oh, thank God! What the hell?!" She exclaimed, fear slowly giving way to anger. Alex stood in front of her, both hands full with a large pizza and a six pack of beer, and a brown bag hung from his teeth, perilously close to ripping, revealing the top of a bottle of Jose Cuervo.

"Mur?" He mumbled something around the brown bag clenched between his teeth that could have been her name as his eyes met hers, filled with a comical mix of amusement and confusion. She angrily snatched the tequila from him before it could fall and shatter all over her floor in a waste of good liquor and stalked back into the kitchen with it. He followed her into the light, dumping his load of refreshments on the counter with a groan of obvious relief. Unintimidated by her folded arms and icy stare, he gestured to the fallen skillet and retorted,

"Hello to you too. And what the hell, yourself! Were you planning to hit me with that?" Flustered and slightly embarrassed now that her fear had faded, Meredith dropped his gaze before stammering,

"What? No. I was cooking. I mean... Don't make this about me! It's 11:00, Alex. At NIGHT! And I didn't know you were coming over, you just walked in. If I _had_ hit you with it, it would have served you right!" Hands on her hips and glaring again, she met his eyes and found that during her rant, the amusement in them had lessened and a growing concern had taken its place.

"Mer, you made me a key." He said gruffly. "Like a year ago. And I use it unannounced about three times a week."

"Not at 11 o'clock at night." She retorted firmly, but her lip trembled a little and she was suddenly terrified that she might start crying. Alex hesitated for just a second, then quickly crossed the space she'd kept between them to pull her into his side for a reassuring squeeze. Meredith sniffed desperately and blinked away her tears. She was still fighting her embarrassment about the day before, she would not burst into tears in front of him for the second time in 48 hours! Alex seemed to sense her discomfort and kept the embrace brief, letting go after just a few seconds.

"Hey. I'm sorry." He said sincerely, searching her face as if hoping to gain some understanding of her unexpected outburst. "It's late, I should have texted first." She avoided his gaze, knowing full well that her reaction to his surprise arrival had nothing to do with the time of night and everything to do with her fragile mental state and the terrifying memories of attacks and plane crashes and car accidents and active shooters playing in an endless loop in her mind like a movie montage of death, death, death that she just couldn't seem to stop. She knew from the soft warmth in his gaze and the way his forehead creased with worry as he looked at her that he knew it too, but she nodded anyway, like she was accepting his apology, happy that he wasn't pushing her to talk.

In the pause that followed, Alex pulled a warm beer out, cracked the top and took a long drink, waggling his eyebrows at her and burping loudly and intentionally once he swallowed.

"You're disgusting," Meredith declared, but she laughed a little and was relieved to feel the awkwardness that had descended between them lift. He chuckled with her, and she knew that had been his goal. She reached over and pushed open the top of the box of pizza he'd brought to find her favorite, deep dish Hawaiian, and inhaled appreciatively. Her stomach rumbled loudly, and she realized that although she'd been hungry when they'd stopped for food, in the chaos of deciphering the kids' orders as they talked loudly over each other, she'd forgotten to order anything for herself. "I'm starving," she moaned now and grabbed a big, greasy piece of pizza and the bottle of tequila, taking them both with her to the couch and flopping down on the cushions. Alex followed behind her, bringing the pizza and the entire six pack of beer and a few paper towels. He set them on the coffee table and settled next to her on the couch in what had become their habit over the years: one arm slung comfortably over the back of the seat behind her and close enough that his leg brushed hers when he leaned forward to grab a piece of pizza for himself. Usually she wouldn't think twice about leaning against him and resting her head on his shoulder, but tonight felt different and she didn't know why. Alex was her person. He'd been her rock during her long recovery from the injuries Lou had caused, and she recalled many broken nights in the ICU of sobbing in an agonizing pain that even a full dosage of her meds couldn't touch, when the gentle strength of his arms around her had helped hold her shattered pieces together. She remembered bursting into the bathroom unannounced while he was showering, to sit on the toilet and vent to him through the shower curtain when Maggie had first come into her life. She remembered essentially breaking into his apartment and crawling into his bed without thinking twice about it, even though she'd kicked his naked girlfriend out to do so, when she'd needed to talk through her fight with Derek. Alex's presence had always comforted and grounded her, but today she felt hyper aware of his closeness, and that made her nervous and self-conscious and confused. She hadn't even wanted to talk to him until she'd had time to figure herself out, but now here he was.

Meredith stole a quick glance over at Alex, who seemed relaxed, already on his second beer, and thankfully unaware of her tense muscles and racing thoughts. He quirked one corner of his mouth at her in a soft smile when he caught her staring and handed her the still- full bottle of tequila. Meredith wrapped her hand around the neck, tilted her head back and took a swig straight from the bottle. The liquid burned on its way down but settled warm and bubbly in her stomach and she sighed at the familiar taste, feeling herself begin to relax just a little. They ate and drank in companionable silence for a few moments, until she felt a little floaty and the alcohol had made her brave enough to disrupt the quiet with a question.

"So, is Jo working tonight?" Alex shook his head and took another drink of his beer before answering.

"No," he said, "she's back at the apartment." Meredith frowned and looked at him sharply.

"Well, then why are you here getting drunk with me instead of home making love to your hot girlfriend?" She asked defensively.

He turned his head to meet her gaze and took a long moment before responding honestly. "Because you're my person, Mer; you're my family. And it's been a hell of a couple days. I tried to call this morning and couldn't reach you and then every time I had a free moment today you were tied up in the OR. Did you really think I just wouldn't check in?" His tone was matter of fact but his eyebrows raised slightly as he held her gaze, as if surprised and hurt that she'd even have to ask that question, and his voice was empathetic without holding any pity. Still, Meredith looked away, anxiously fiddling with the label on the tequila bottle.

"Well, I'm fine." She whispered shakily. She didn't realize she was crying again until she felt his hand come to rest between her shoulder blades with a steadying warmth that seemed to radiate through her whole body. "You say 'fine' so much it doesn't even sound like a word anymore", he whispered half-jokingly against her hair, and she snorted through her tears at his reference to their intern years.

"Damn it." She cursed, mortified, wiping her wet face with the sleeve of her sweatshirt. "I don't know why I'm crying, it must be the stupid tequila." She was grateful when Alex didn't comment, and disconcertingly even more grateful that his strong hand remained comfortingly on her back until she stopped sniffling.

"You don't have to be fine all the time, Mer." He said softly after she'd been quiet for a while, and she thought she heard her pain echoing beneath the compassion in his voice, but she was too embarrassed to risk a glance at his expression. "What happened to you was a freaking nightmare. It's ok to still be coming to terms with it. Aren't you the one who said that not everyone has to be happy all the time? 'That's not mental health, that's crap.'" Meredith grimaced slightly as he quoted her words from years ago and nodded, remembering that day. "Well, then. Stop believing crap." He murmured, and she felt him press a kiss to the top of her head. "Now eat your pizza, woman!" He commanded in a lighter tone of voice as he handed her another, now cold slice and grabbed one for himself as well. She obeyed, taking a messy, unattractive bite and grabbed the tv remote, flipping through channels of trashy late night tv before stopping with a smile on an old Friends re- run. They ate and laughed at David Schwimmer's faces without talking anymore, until shortly after her mother's old clock chimed 2:00 am and Alex's snoring drowned out the dialogue from the tv. Meredith refused to analyze the sudden pang of cold loss she felt when his hand slipped from her back, limp with sleep; instead she stuffed all of her confusing feelings deep down in a dusty corner of herself where she wouldn't have to deal with them until the morning. Her own eyes were heavy too, so she switched off the tv and stiffly got up to grab two throw blankets from a storage ottoman across the room. She spread one over Alex, who didn't stir, and wrapped one around her own shoulders, curling up on the other end of the couch with her head pillowed on the armrest and her cold feet brushing the warmth of his leg. She was so tired, and with Alex beside her snoring loudly enough to drown out her fears, she somehow wasn't worried anymore about the nightmares. Closing her eyes, she tumbled into a dreamless sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Warmth was what roused her, after what seemed like only moments but must have really been

hours. A ray of midmorning sun slanting through the living room window behind her fell across

her face in a ray of brightness that she could see even from behind closed eyelids. Muffled

thumps and distant giggles coming from the ceiling above her head let her know that the kids

were awake as well, but she stayed there a moment longer, with her eyes shut against the golden

warmth, hovering in that peaceful, dreamy haze somewhere between sleep and conscious

thought- until sour morning breath huffed into her face made her crinkle her nose and insistent

small hands assaulted her cheeks. "Mommy? Mommy are you awake?" Meredith smiled wryly

and reached up without opening her eyes to still her daughter's hands gently in her own. "If

I wasn't before, Zo-Zo, I am now." She answered softly, voice raspy and thick with sleep. She

drew one pudgy palm to her lips for a kiss and yawned deeply while Zola rattled on, almost

faster than her still-drowsy mind could follow. "Why are you sleeping on the couch? Why is Uncle

Alex here? Did you have a sleepover after we went to bed? No fair!" For a moment, Meredith

was confused by her daughter's questions; the tequila and exhaustion of the night before had

made her memories hazy. But Alex's name brought it all rushing back and she realized that the

low rumbling noise that she'd sleepily assumed was someone's lawn mower was actually her

person's soft snoring. Suddenly very much awake, Meredith's eyes flew open. She stifled a groan

as stiff limbs protested against movement and did her best not to jostle the couch too much

as she carefully pushed herself up onto one elbow to follow Zola's pointed finger and pouting

glare. The sunlight filtered through Alex's tousled hair as he slept beside her on the couch,

highlighting in brilliant gold the first few scattered threads of grey that were beginning to show.

His mouth hung open as he snored softly, still slumped back against the couch the same way he had been when she'd curled up next to him last night, only now his neck was tilted in an awkward looking position that made Meredith cringe at just the thought of the pain he would be in when he woke up. Sometime during the night she had stretched out, she noticed, because now her legs were flung across his lap, cold toes burrowed into welcome warmth between his thighs. But she quickly swung them down

onto the cold wood floor when she realized that the fleshy firmness her heel had been resting

against was also a type of wood... morning wood. Embarrassment made her cheeks flush hot

red and her breath come fast. She didn't know why she was so flustered- after all, she had three

children; she was hardly unfamiliar with morning erections. Unbidden memories of all the times

she had been late for rounds precisely because she and Derek had taken advantage of such a

morning occurrence flooded her mind with tender, passionate sounds and images of the two of

them that deepened the shade of scarlet in her cheeks and made her inexpressibly grateful that

Zola couldn't see her thoughts. Shaking her head to clear it, she glanced back up at Alex again,

eyes lingering for an inappropriate moment on the bulge beneath his pants before darting away

again, as her mind continued racing far too quickly for before coffee. The intimate memories

had confirmed that she was certainly no stranger to erections, and she had never been one who

was shy about sex. But it had been so long since she had lost Derek, she thought with a heavy

sigh, a twinge of pain twisting her heart and coloring the memories of their morning trysts a

little grayer with bittersweet loss. She had spent more than a few long, broken nights since then

wrapped in Alex's arms, desperate for a barrier between her and the foreign emptiness of the right

side of the bed; or crawling into the guest bed with him after he was asleep on those nights she

worked late and he stayed with the kids, to escape the haunting loneliness she often felt,

even in the crowded hospital or at home surrounded by her beautiful children. But somehow,

this morning felt different. Her mind began to churn with frightening emotions, and possible

explanations for what would make it different came rushing to the forefront of her thoughts,

demanding to be heard and understood. But Meredith quickly stood up from the couch and took

Zola's hand, choosing to throw herself into the day and deal with feelings the way she always

had- by ignoring them until they passed. "Shhh. Zo-zo come to the kitchen with me, honey. let's

let Uncle Alex sleep." She whispered. Zola trailed sullenly behind her as she shuffled stiffly into

the kitchen and headed straight for the coffee maker, moaning as her back launched a painful

complaint about the uncomfortable softness of the couch cushions and her head throbbed

with the familiar aftereffects of consuming indecent amounts of tequila. But a few moments

later as the coffee began to brew, filling the kitchen with the best smell of morning, Meredith

realized that despite the headache and stiffness, she actually felt... good. For the first time in

three days her body felt rested and her mind was clear, free from the fog of repressed fear and

haunting nightmares that had been shrouding her- waking or sleeping- ever since the incident in

the trauma room. A warm surge of gratitude for Alex's stubborn refusal to let her push him away

washed over her and a soft smile played involuntarily around the corners of her lips- unfading

even when Zola slumped pathetically onto a barstool on the other side of the kitchen counter

and glared at her- chocolate eyes as full of the caliber of sulky betrayal that only a 5-year-old

who feels she has missed out on fun can muster. Sucking her bottom lip in between her teeth

to keep from chuckling, Meredith walked around the counter to wrap her dejected daughter

in a fond hug. "Oh Zola, sweetie, I'm sorry. I didn't know Uncle Alex was coming over until after

you were already asleep, I promise. It wasn't supposed to be a sleepover; but you know your

mommy and Uncle Alex are old and tired." Zola only sniffed in reply to her mother's explanation,

but she leaned into the hug and this time Meredith did allow herself to laugh softly before

stepping back and dropping a kiss onto her daughter's forehead. Meredith took a cautious sip

of steaming coffee while Zola began bargaining for her own sleepover, as expected. Shaking her

head apologetically, she explained to her disappointed little girl that Uncle Alex had to work until

late that night and that Jo would be sad if he didn't come home again, but deep inside, there was

a frighteningly large part of her that secretly wished she could grant her daughter's wish to have

Alex stay again. Refusing to dwell on the thought, she tousled Zola's sleep-mussed braids and

told herself that the reason she had slept so deeply was simply due to the alcohol and exhaustion

finally catching up to her. But when she came downstairs 30 minutes later, after taking a quick

shower and waking Bailey and Ellis, the wonderful, carb-y smell of Alex's signature waffles and

bacon breakfast greeted her, making her stomach growl loudly. And the throaty sound of Alex's

deep laugh when Zola told him the same joke she had been telling him all week and the way

he grinned in fond amusement when Bailey took the stairs two at a time and threw little arms

around his legs in gleeful surprise, turned the little ripple of gratitude that she'd felt upon waking into

a tsunami wave of warmth that swelled inside her chest and crashed with a flutter in her stomach. And it was the flutter, which she hadn't felt in years and had thought she'd never feel again that finally forced Meredith to admit to herself the truth she had been avoiding all morning: that she'd been

exhausted and a little drunk plenty of times, but she still hadn't slept that well since Derek had

died two years ago. The only difference last night had been Alex's presence; and she was afraid

of the complicated reality she'd have to face if she stopped to analyze what that meant, or

admitted to herself who she'd woken up next to the last time her stomach had been this quivery

and her cheeks this red. So instead she pressed a kiss into Ellis's chubby cheek, and walked into

the homey scene in the kitchen with a soft smile, returning Alex's cheerful good morning greeting

and accepting the heavy plate he handed her, piled high with the waffles and whipped cream that

he knew was her favorite breakfast. She ate in silence, sharing bites of her waffle with little Ellis,

just enjoying the bright chatter of her children and the soft brushes of Alex's arm against hers as

he shifted in the seat next to her, choosing to lose herself in the golden moment and leave her

tumultuous feelings for later.


End file.
